


Equus

by withpractice_ff



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, M/M, PWKM, Phoenix Wright Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-29
Updated: 2010-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withpractice_ff/pseuds/withpractice_ff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles and Phoenix go horseback riding.  It does not go quite how Phoenix expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equus

**Author's Note:**

> For the kink meme prompt:
> 
>  _For some reason, Phoenix and Edgeworth end up riding horses together. Neither of them is happy about it, and they're even less happy when Edgeworth is thrown (or his horse gets injured, whatever) and he has to share a horse with Phoenix._
> 
>  _And then Phoenix gets an erection. Not only is it impossible to hide, but the motion of the horse is forcing him to grind it against Edgeworth's ass._
> 
>  _Bonus points if Phoenix has an orgasm while pretending he isn't._
> 
>  _Pre-relationship, please. The rest is up to you._

"Do you ride?"

The voice startles him, and he jumps, in turn startling the chestnut mare whose nose he'd been patting, and she trots off across the pasture.

Phoenix turns, finds Edgeworth regarding him with a smirk.

"Nah, never have. Knowing my luck, I'd get thrown right off."

Edgeworth tsks, moving to join Phoenix at the fence. Phoenix's mare is grazing lazily in the center of the pasture, and behind her a striking black thoroughbred prances across the grass, making her own fun.

"Oh, it's not so difficult," Edgeworth says, admiring the animals in the distance. "Find the right horse, and she'll do most of the work for you."

"I've always wanted to," Phoenix admits. "They're so majestic."

Edgeworth nods his agreement. "I haven't ridden in years, not since I was last in Germany. I often miss it, but it's hard to find the time."

They fall into a companionable silence, watching the horses go about their business, enjoying the melodic chirping of the birds. Phoenix breathes in deeply, taking in the earthy fall air, and is glad to be out of the city, even under such circumstances.

Of course, such moments of peace can never last, and especially not at a crime scene.

"Mr. Edgeworth! Sir!" Gumshoe announces himself, rushing up to the pair. "We found something you're going to want to see!"

And so it's back to work.

  


* * *

  


They don't cross paths again until the end of the day. Edgeworth looks tired, eying Gumshoe with mild irritation as he chats up the forensics team. When he sees Phoenix, his frown deepens; today, the evidence was not on the prosecution's side.

Phoenix gives him a little nod of the head--"Come here," the gesture says--and reluctantly Edgeworth pulls away from his team, joining the defense on the other side of the dirt road. For not the first time today, he wishes he'd worn more appropriate shoes.

"I was just chatting with Mr. Roper," Phoenix says, referring to the owner of the ranch. Annoyance flares at Edgeworth's temple--he'd just seen the two together, knew they were talking--but he bites back the sarcastic remark at the tip of his tongue and allows Phoenix to continue: "He says you're welcome to take one of the horses out, if you want."

Phoenix Wright, always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. Still, he can't deny that he's tempted by the offer, and grateful that Phoenix procured it. He looks up at the sky, judging the remaining daylight, and is disappointed that dusk is so quickly creeping in.

"Tomorrow, perhaps," he says non-commitally. After a pause he adds, "Though I do appreciate your efforts."

Phoenix grins. "I figured it's the least I could do, given how thoroughly I'm going to whip you in court tomorrow."

  


* * *

  


Phoenix's confidence isn't entirely misplaced, but he's not the only one who can spot a contradiction, and Edgeworth manages to get the trial extended to a third and final day. So that next afternoon, they are back at Roper's ranch.

There's not much left to see, honestly, both sides having been meticulous in their investigations the previous two days. Edgeworth knows this, knows that tomorrow it will all come down to the testimony and whether or not Phoenix can get the witness to break. So after spending a few hours reviewing the state of things with the investigation team and joining them in a final sweep for any additional evidence, he feels comfortable in taking an hour to himself to take up Mr. Roper's offer.

But first, he must find Phoenix.

  


* * *

  


"Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" Phoenix asks, not looking up. He's sitting in the middle of the barn, going over his court record yet again, looking for anything he may have missed. Today's investigation has been as unproductive for the defense as the prosecution, though he does have this engraved metal bit that he found yesterday. He still doesn't know what to make of it; the engraving reads "Misty", but there is neither staff nor horse by such a name at the ranch.

"Are you ready to go riding?" Edgeworth clarifies, and Phoenix looks up to find the prosecutor in full formal riding gear, the tight tan breeches hugging his lean thighs, the wine-colored jacket flaring flatteringly at his hips.

Phoenix's mouth goes dry, and it's only when Edgeworth clears his throat impatiently that he remembers he's been asked a question.

"Uh, I didn't realize I was going."

"I believe you intimated just yesterday that you've a long-standing interest. Why waste this opportunity?"

"Because I don't know how to ride?" Phoenix says, his voice pitching nervously.

"Mr. Roper hand-picked a mount for you--the well-behaved mare you were engaging yesterday, as a matter of fact."

"I don't know..." he says shyly, hand moving to the back of his neck. "I just know I'm going to make a fool of myself."

"And how would that differ from any other day?" Edgeworth asks.

  


* * *

  


Phoenix is uncertain as Edgeworth gives him a boost onto his mount, but Glenda seems a good choice: she stands patiently as Phoenix throws a clumsy leg across her back, as he shifts and shimmies to get comfortable in the saddle.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Phoenix asks, watching Edgeworth effortlessly mount Ebony in one fluid motion. The ranch hands hide their smiles behind their hands, not wanting to exacerbate Phoenix's obvious nervousness.

"Wright, just let Glenda take the lead and you'll be fine."

And it is fine. Phoenix finds his rhythm quickly, and Edgeworth can't help but be impressed by how fast he catches on. Still, Phoenix seems mildly uncomfortable, as though one wrong move and he'll have a bucking bronco between his thighs.

"Relax," Edgeworth chides. They're out on the trail now, a well-worn dirt path canopied by tall oaks and sycamores, hundreds of years old. The late afternoon light filters in through the leaves, dappling the ground below. He imagines bringing Franziska here, how she'd take to the quiet.

"I'm _trying_ ," Phoenix says with a sigh, chancing to free one hand of the reins long enough to pat Glenda on the neck. The mare shows no signs of acknowledgment, continuing her even plod forward. "I'm just, you know, _sitting on a living thing_."

Edgeworth laughs, shaking his head. "And I think she's enjoying it more than you are."

He breaks forward then, urging Ebony into a brisk canter. The thoroughbred kicks her feet up as lively as they'd seen the day before, and Phoenix watches them, dumbfounded, wondering how Edgeworth was able to get her to do that.

"Do you mind if I let her loose?" Edgeworth asks, regarding Phoenix over his shoulder. "We'll go no more than a half mile, then I'll loop back around."

The idea of being left alone on the trail--even with Edgeworth in sight--makes his stomach do a flip. But he doesn't want Edgeworth to hold back on his account, and besides, maybe he'll loosen up a little if he's not so worried about making himself a fool in front of the other man. So with a hesitant nod he says, "Go for it."

Edgeworth breaks out into a grin, but there's no time for Phoenix to properly register his surprise at such a sight before they're off, Edgeworth standing in the stirrups as Ebony transitions to a gallop. The two move fluidly as one, disappearing down the path, Ebony's mane and tale ribboning behind her.

It looks exhilarating.

"I guess it's just you and me," Phoenix comments to Glenda, and she nickers, friendly, in response.

Without Edgeworth's eyes on him, he is able to relax a bit, and as he starts to feel more comfortable on the horse, he lets his mind wander back to the case. Chet Hodgins--one of the students at the ranch's adult riding academy--is back on the stand tomorrow, and Phoenix is relatively sure that Mr. Hodgins is the guilty party. But he'd been so calm in court this morning, and all Phoenix has left up is sleeve is that engraved bit...

He's so distracted, turning the name "Misty" over and over again in his mind, that he doesn't notice the long kingsnake slithering across the path or Glenda's quiet, nervous whinny. He does notice when she stops abruptly, digging her hooves into the dirt, but by then it's too late. Fate leads the snake to turn, heading straight for them, and that is more then Glenda can bear, rearing back and dumping the unprepared Phoenix onto the ground before taking off down the path, back toward the stables.

It takes him a second to piece together what happened, it all went down so fast. He stands, mildly disoriented but otherwise fine, though he wonders if he'll have a nice bruise on his butt tomorrow. For a moment he considers chasing after her, but she's made good time, easily a quarter-mile away.

"Phoenix!" Edgeworth shouts, just a few yards away now. He brings Ebony to a sharp stop just in front of Phoenix and quickly dismounts. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little shaken up," he assures, dusting the dirt off of his pants. "And a lot embarrassed."

Edgeworth shakes his head. "I shouldn't have left you." Phoenix is about to argue that, but then Edgeworth continues, "We'll never catch her now, but she seems to be headed back to the stables, at least. I'll give Mr. Roper a call, let him know to look out for her."

Phoenix stands around awkwardly as Edgeworth makes the call, feeling foolish. He did warn them that something exactly like this would happen, though.

"Alright," Edgeworth says, snapping his cellphone shut. "I suppose we best head back."

Phoenix frowns, looking mournfully down the path back to the stables. It's going to be a long walk.

Edgeworth mounts back up, then leads Ebony back over to Phoenix. Holding out a hand, he says, "Come, hop up."

Phoenix stares at the proffered hand, then at Ebony, then at the hand again. "Um."

"Are you afraid? I assure you, you are safe riding with me."

"There's not much room..." he says, eying Ebony's rump warily.

"It is not ideal, but it will get us back to the stables in a timely manner. Unless you'd prefer to walk the two and a half miles."

He sort of would prefer to walk back, but it's getting late, and Edgeworth's still holding out his hand, and it's _two and a half miles back_. So, with a heavy-hearted sigh, he takes Edgeworth's hand and allows himself to be pulled up onto the horse.

There's more room than he anticipated, but he's nervous to sit too close the to rear. The english saddle has a low lip, allowing him to scoot forward a bit, though it digs unpleasantly into his thighs and balls. He's not sure what to do with his hands, so his rests them on his knees until Edgeworth says, "You'll have to hold on."

"To what?" Phoenix asks, feeling his face heat in embarrassment.

"To me," Edgeworth says easily. "I appreciate your consideration, but I'd like to take a brisk pace back, so I'd feel better if you held on tightly."

Tentatively, Phoenix puts his hands at Edgeworth's waist. When there's no protest, he fists Edgeworth's riding jacket in each hand. The fabric is pleasant in his fingers, and his knuckles can't help but brush against Edgeworth's hip, the soft cotton of his riding shirt and the warm leather of his belt. They're close enough that he can smell the other man, the scent of citrus and fresh laundry, and under that, something surprisingly masculine.

Already, he has a bad feeling about this.

"Are you ready?" Edgeworth asks, and when Phoenix mumbles an unconvincing assent, he warns, "I'm going to take us at a trot, so you may get a bit jostled. Just hold on and you'll be fine."

They get off to a slow start, but Edgeworth quickly brings the mare to a trot. Without a saddle and on the back of the horse, Phoenix feels every step, and more than once he thinks he's going to fall right off. Instinctually, his hold on Edgeworth tightens, his arms moving further forward to circle Edgeworth's waist, bringing his upper chest flush against Edgeworth's back. He doesn't realize it at first, too focused on not falling, and when he does, his entire body goes hot, embarrassed and something else. But Edgeworth hasn't complained, and he's terrified of falling again, so he keeps his grip.

They are not two minutes in when he identifies the growing knot in his stomach for what it is--what he was dreading it would be. He wills himself to think about other things--taxes, the elderly, the unappealing scent of Très Bien's kitchen--anything other than the warmth of Edgeworth's body so close to his own.

There is something almost taboo about his arms around Edgeworth's waist, his breath on Edgeworth's neck. To _touch_ his longtime rival, sometimes friend--even with permission, even so innocently--feels like an invasion, like he's getting away with something. And his traitorous body is responding accordingly.

He bites his lip, hard, hoping the pain will stop his slowly growing erection. At that same moment, the movement of the horse shifts him forward, rubbing him against the back of the saddle, a mixture of pain and pleasure trickling down his spine and pooling between his thighs. Horrified, he tries to shift away, put more space between himself and the man in front of him, but he gets jostled forward again and this time he finds himself half-hard and pressed against Edgeworth's back.

He pulls away quickly, praying Edgeworth didn't notice. He waits, holding his breath, and Edgeworth says nothing, makes no acknowledgement. Though, would he say something? Phoenix tries to imagine their positions reversed, Edgeworth wrapped around him, his unexpected erection pressing into the small of Phoenix's back. It would be too awkward, wouldn't it, to say something? Better to ignore it, pretend it didn't happen.

He stays as still as he can while trying to loosen his grip on the other man, put a little more distance between them. But it's futile, the horse's movements too jolting and his fear of falling too great. And he can't stop thinking, now, about feeling Edgeworth hard and pressed against him.

"Stop the horse," he says quietly, afraid his voice will betray him.

"What's that?" Edgeworth calls back over his shoulder.

"Stop the horse!" Phoenix repeats, surprising them both with his volume.

But Edgeworth doesn't stop. He says, "I know how it is, to be shaken up after a fall. But the best thing you can do is just get back on the horse and see that there's nothing to fear."

"It's not that," he almost says, but then stops himself; no way does he plan on explaining the truth of his desire to dismount.

So he takes a deep breath, leans his hips as far away from Edgeworth's as he can, and resigns himself. They can't be more than fifteen minutes away at the rate they're going, surely he can make it that long without causing a scene.

"Okay?" Edgeworth asks, having heard no response from the other man.

"Yeah," Phoenix replies through gritted teeth, focusing so hard on keeping still.

Placated, Edgeworth turns his attention back to the path, and for a moment, Phoenix thinks it's going to be alright. But then he's surged forward again, his fully-hard length pressed into and dragged against the saddle. and he has to dig his teeth into his tongue to bite back the moan that threatens to escape his lips. Involuntarily, his grip tightens on Edgeworth's jacket, the fabric twisting in his fingers. Still Edgeworth says nothing.

He tries to shift away again only to be thrown again forward and onto the saddle, into Edgeworth, his cock sliding against Edgeworth's ass, up the small of his back. He pulls away as though he's touched fire, his ears ringing with horror as he waits for Edgeworth to whip around in disgust and indignation, to yank him off the horse and leave him in the dust and dirt.

It doesn't come. He stares at the back of Edgeworth's head, his silver-grey hair hidden under the smart black riding helmet. Does he really not feel it? Is he just being polite? His face burns, thinking that Edgeworth might know perfectly well what's going on behind him but is holding his tongue out of some misplaced sense of propriety.

He's imagining Edgeworth avoiding him in court, the two of them sharing but never speaking of this shameful secret, when he's bounced forward yet again. He's so terribly hard now, his embarrassment and discomfort seeming to only fuel his arousal, and the rub of the saddle against his length is both an agony and a relief. His knees go weak at the rough drag against the leather, and he's horrified to find that he doesn't have the strength to move himself back; he tries and feels himself tilt precariously to the left, so he doesn't try again.

This leaves him in such a position that every step of the horse grinds him against the saddle, and his fingers dig now into Edgeworth's hip as he tries not to give in to the rapidly intensifying threat of release.

"It's okay," Edgeworth says, misinterpreting Phoenix's fingers in his flesh. "It won't be much longer now."

And that's exactly what Phoenix is afraid of. Every rock of his hips into the saddle is a frustration, painful and inexact enough to make him think that perhaps he'll make it, but pleasurable enough to make him sure that he won't, to make him ache for an end to the tension and heat growing steadily in his abdomen.

"Please," he manages through his teeth. "I need to get down."

"You're almost there," Edgeworth says gently, and it's that softness, that unexpected tenderness that does Phoenix in. He comes suddenly, messing the right leg of his pants, and manages to swallow his moan so that it comes out as little more than a deep sigh. For a split second his vision goes white, but the vague sensation of falling brings him back to himself, makes him straighten himself out and secure his arms around Edgeworth's waist.

Jesus Christ.

With dread, he looks down at his pants. As he'd feared, there's a small wet spot on the right leg, slowly spreading. A hard-on he could hide until it went away, but this?

They slow as they approach the stables, Edgeworth easing Ebony into a walk. He's relieved, at least, to see that there are several hands tending to Glenda, who seems to have made it back in one piece and is being treated to a carrot.

He lets go of Edgeworth as soon as they come to a stop, and he hurries off the horse, sliding off the back gracelessly before Edgeworth can turn and get a look at him. By the time Edgeworth's dismounted, Phoenix has his jacket tied around his waist.

"See?" Edgeworth asks, pulling off his helmet. His hair is disheveled, his face flushed, and Phoenix can't help it, he wonders if that's what he looks like just after sex. In response, a fresh wave of guilt rolls over him. Edgeworth finishes, "I told you I'd get you back safe and sound."

Phoenix nods, mumbling his thanks, and ducks away as quickly as he can. Edgeworth looks after him in confusion.

  


* * *

  


As if the universe is trying to make amends, he lucks out on his trip to the bathroom: it's a single stall affair, and it has a hand dryer. He's able to sufficiently clean himself up, and if anyone asks about the lingering discoloration on his slacks, still slightly damp, he can reasonably claim to have gotten water on himself at the sink.

He's surprised to find Edgeworth waiting for him outside of the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" he asks, showing uncharacteristic concern.

"Uh, yeah," Phoenix says, barking out a nervous laugh. He brings a hand to the back of his neck. "Why do you ask?"

"I can't help but feel responsible for your stress this afternoon. I'd hate to think I'd helped to turn you off from riding."

He titters, swallows down the relieved laughter threatening to burst out of him. If he only knew how much he truly put him through within the last hour. Edgeworth's brow furrows, troubled, and Phoenix makes himself say, "No, please, I'm fine."

"So you'd come out with me again sometime?"

And there's something about the way he says it, something he can't quite place, that makes Phoenix wonder, makes his face heat and his cheeks go red. Surely he doesn't...

Edgeworth shrugs, and there's something sly about his smile, or maybe Phoenix is imaging it, seeing what he wants to see.

"If you're not interested, of course I understand. I have no doubt the experience has left you quite spent."

Now Phoenix's brow crinkles, disbelieving. He can't know what he's saying, it must be some hilarious, unfortunate coincidence. But if he _does_ know, why won't he just _say_ something, why is he being so _coy?_

"Well," he says as he turns, begins to walk away. "I look forward to seeing you in court tomorrow, Wright."

He stares after him, flabbergasted, and when Edgeworth is almost through the door he is unable to stop himself from calling, "How about next week?"


End file.
